


Unfitted by an instant’s grace

by zinjadu



Series: Wed to Blight [36]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Bechdel Test Pass, F/F, Female Friendship, Gen, POV Leliana, Past Relationship(s), Past Torture, but its a little easier with friends, getting over it is hard to do
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-26
Updated: 2019-07-26
Packaged: 2020-07-20 07:50:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19988650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zinjadu/pseuds/zinjadu
Summary: On the road, Leliana has finally been tracked down by Marjolaine's goons.  The question was never if, but when it would happen.  Now, she travels with a better person by far, and perhaps this is the chance she has to repair her friendship with the Warden.If you like softened Leliana, this fic is for you.Note: I hit the wrong bloody button!  Posted early I guess.  XD;;;;





	Unfitted by an instant’s grace

“Are you certain it will be no trouble?” Leliana commanded her hands to stillness, to not be the flustered girl she had once been so long ago. But anything to do with Marjoline always got under her skin. When she had been young and foolish and thought herself in love—oh, how she had craved her mentor’s approval, her lover’s attention—it had been a delight.

Caitwyn watched her with inscrutable eyes, a bright spot against the dreary, grey, Ferelden winter. Two years she had been in this land, nearly three, and she still could not accustom herself to the severity of winters where trees froze and burst, where the wind whipped up from the south with a terrible ferocity. The Warden shrugged. “We’re headed to Denerim anyway. Got to track down this Brother Genitivi, and Alistair wants to meet his sister. No trouble if we’re already  _ there _ . Besides, Marjoline… she—”

“She betrayed me, yes.” Now, now the itch wasn’t in her chest, but between her shoulder blades. The arrow in the back, the knife in the dark. The pain remembered was not the sweet anticipation of a kiss or a caress, but the bitter twist of screws and the searing agony of a blade parting flesh.

How had she loved someone so cruel?

“I’m sorry.” The words were so quiet, so rushed together, Leliana scarcely thought she’d heard them. Caitwyn’s gaze roamed the snowy hills, and her breath steamed from her lips, fluffy and white. 

Leliana huffed, her breath driven from her as though she’d been punched in the middle. Caitwyn’s distance had been protracted and pointed since Leliana’s own misstep. No, not her misstep, her mis _ thought _ . To see but not understand. Had she not prayed that she would find a greater kindness in her own heart, to not be someone who saw others as tools or means? 

_ … a well trained elven servant is pleasing to look at _ — _ I am a  _ **_person_ ** _. _

“For what. You have no cause to be—”

“Saw your face when that mercenary confirmed it was Marjoline who was after you still. You’re afraid.”

“A little, perhaps, but—”

“I know what that’s like.”

Leliana regarded the other woman’s profile carefully, searching for something more than those evenly spoken words. Slim shoulders rolled uneasily underneath layers of cloak and armor and gambeson. Slim, but strong, strong enough to pull a full draw on a longbow, strong enough to bear the burden of a Warden, strong enough for cares and woes not her own. Yet her features remained as impassive as a stone.

“Forgot. Forgot what you were put through. Shouldn’t have.” The words were clipped, but did not contain anger, at least not directed at Leliana. Inward, always inward this woman. Marjoline had been expansive, larger than life to Leliana’s untutored eyes. A woman she wanted to  _ be _ . Yet there had been nothing in the woman’s heart save herself.

“I do not think you forgot,” Leliana said softly. Caitwyn was still, as still as a statue of ice, and Leliana found the courage to speak of a time that she would have given much to forget. “I think you could not fathom how if I had suffered so, I could not see how others suffered.”

“You think so?” Those weighty eyes fixed on her face, and Leliana met them squarely. Inward and then a gauntlet thrown by turns, this woman! This was not easy for her, to come down from her safe, isolated perch. Yet she attempted it all the same. Because she could not witness suffering and do nothing.

Leliana knew the solace that distance could bring, and she did not fault Caitwyn for it. She also knew the courage it took to close that distance.

“I know so.” Their gazes locked for a heartbeat, a breath longer, and wry grin twisted the other woman’s lips.

“Found me out, then have you? Alright, I get the point. I just.” An inarticulate wave accompanied the words, but Leliana understood. To see beyond one’s self was not easy at the best of times. How well she knew that.

How blind she had been! She knew the depths of her old mentor’s, her first lover’s selfishness. Knew to the bones that ached when the cold turned damp, knew by the scars that still burned on her body. If she had been so blind, so unseeing, what else in all her life had she missed? The woman next to her saw so much, and took on so much. 

Nothing had seemed to touch Marjoline.

The world had left its scars on Caitwyn, on them both, and yet the scars did not make her cruel. Could Leliana say the same?

Hesitantly, Leliana reached for the other woman as though she were approaching a wild animal. When Caitwyn did not pull away, Leliana clapped the smaller woman on her strong shoulder. 

“I think we both understand a bit better now, no? And isn’t that better than to remain as we were?”

The wry grin fled before a thoughtful pursing of lips. “That’s very true. And… well. I’m glad to help. This sort of thing, it’s hard to put behind you without help.  _ That _ , I know. Now.”

What Caitwyn had to put behind her, she did not say, nor did Leliana think she should ask. Though she could infer much from recent events. Yet, Caitwyn’s scars were her own, and whoever she showed them to was her choice. As Leliana shared her own.

A smile bloomed on Leliana’s face like an early spring flower as she let her hand fall away. “And I thank you for it. Perhaps, if you wish it, I could continue to teach you Orlesian. It has been some time, and… it would be good to do so.”

“That’d be… nice, yes. Thank you. Though,” Caitwyn hesitated, pausing for dramatic effect in a habit that could have been picked up from Zevran. A sharp smile gave the other woman’s face a vulpine cast, and a weight upon Leliana’s heart fell away like a tumbled stone at the sight of it. “My accent’s probably Antivan by now. Think you can put up with that?”

“Oh, I believe I shall manage. Somehow.”

And she believed that. With all her heart, she believed she could manage much now that she was no longer alone.


End file.
